Life, Interrupted: Scattered Pieces
by KiyaNamiel
Summary: Series of scenes on the rebirth of the Fëanorions from Maedhros' perspectives as they attempt to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives and reforge long-broken bonds between estranged siblings and family. It's not the end of the world, after all - it's just an interruption in life. Part of the One Hundred Drabble Challenge by NirCele.
1. Chapter 1

_This is part of the One Hundred Drabble challenge by NirCele, please visit her profile for more info! By her permission, I have taken the opportunity to make these one-shots as well as drabbles._

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 **Challenge - Justice**

 _Maitimo_

It is dark. I know not how long I have been here. It has been a long time since I have ever thought of time; in fact, it has been a long time since I have even thought of anything at all. Rather, I feel as though I have been sleeping for a long time, though I cannot think why.

"Indeed, you have." The smooth, dark voice reaches my ears in the soothing absence of light, and I curl into a ball, terror welling in my heart. I remember that voice from a long time ago: hearing it echo with words of doom as I pass with my father and brothers underneath the shadow of an ominous cliff.

"There is no need to be afraid. Come." And a large but gentle hand lands on my shoulder. I strain my eyes, but I cannot see anything, cannot feel anything but that hand on my shoulder.

The hand surprises me. It seems to me as though it should be harsh and firm, not soft and caring in its touch. I reach up blindly to grasp for it, not knowing what else to do. My fingers find what they seek, and I feel startled. The hand is soft and feels creamy under my calloused fingers. It is so unlike what I think it should be.

"But things are never as they seem, haven't you learned that already, Maedhros?" The voice asked. I cringe, fingers balling around the hand. I do not like to hear that name. The memories that come with it are not nice.

"But it is your name, and shall remain so until you have been judged." Came the calm reply to my thoughts. I feel panic begin to well up. Judged?

"There is no need to fear, Maedhros. We do not judge because we hate; we judge because we love. And indeed, we do not judge: you judge yourself." Says the voice cryptically, and then the hand I was holding pulls me up. I stand shakily, and after I regain my balance there is a gentle tug on my hand, to which demand I capitulate, allowing it to lead me where it will.

After a while of walking through the dark and peaceful silence, we arrive in a large ring I remember well from a long time ago. There are fourteen thrones set in it, and each one is soon filled with the Valar as I am left by my escort in the very center.

I look down miserably, seeing the tiles underneath my feet, not wishing to look up for shame and fear. Then the silence is broke by a voice whose sound I have almost forgotten. It is like the soft breezes, caressing my ears teasingly before floating away and dissipating.

"Maedhros Feänorion. Long have ye slept in the halls of mine brother, to allow thy battered feä to heal enough to come before I and mine brethren to be judged, so that wrongs that should never have happened may be set right. Have ye anything to say?" It asks me formally. I close my eyes, feeling, for once in a long time, helpless and speechless.

My mind scrambles for words. Where has my grasp of speech gone? It has deserted me in the face of this trial that has been long coming. I slowly manage to piece together a reply. I am too tired for arguments or defenses any longer.

"No. I have nothing to say. Please, do what you will; I have no strength left. I only wish for the loss of feeling, to lessen my misery." I finish in barely a whisper, eyes closing in exhaustion at the attempt to formulate the answer.

There is a heavy silence. "Then let it begin." Was Manwë's answer, accompanied by a sigh. I can feel almost nothing any longer- there is nothing but agonizing pain as my memories are dragged before the cruel light, unvarnished and glaring in their naked hideousness.

It is a long time before they are over, and the world is tilting before my eyes as black spots dot my vision. I do not even realize that I am lying down until I vaguely register the feeling of being held in someone's arms. Opening my tear-filled eyes, I see that Manwë is holding me gently, looking down with tenderness in his gaze as one would look upon a child.

I weep bitterly. Why does he look upon me so? I deserve the same fate as Moringotto for my crimes, not to be looked upon with any form of fondness. I turn away weakly, ashamed.

"Nay, Nelyafinwë. All is well now. Sleep, and next time you awake you shall have taken the first step towards being healed once more." Manwë tells me in a soft voice, his pale blue hair fluttering about my face as his blue eyes ringed with gold look down at me, a small smile curving the firm but gentle lips.

I fall asleep, too weak to do or say anything more.

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 _840 words for those interested._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to those who have reviewed, followed, and favorited! Please enjoy this new Drabble, and I hope to hear your thoughts again. So without further ado, please_

 _Read!_

 _Enjoy!_

 _Review!_

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 **Challenge - Dreams and Fantasies**

My dreams are faint and fleeting, and I cannot grasp them in my mind, no matter how hard I try to catch them.

When I wake up, it is to see a Maia standing over me, a small smile on his fair face as he helps me to sit up and hands me a glass of water. I attempt to reach out and take it, but my fingers do not want to move. They stay still, and no amount of willing them will not make them budge.

"There is no need to panic." The Maia speaks softly. "It is natural that you must learn how to move again after you are newly reborn." He says, lifting the cup to my mouth. I say nothing, but swallow the cool water gratefully, closing my eyes.

It has been so long since I have drank anything, felt anything. It is like being born all over again- which is exactly what has happened. I look down at myself to see that I look exactly as I did before. Nothing is different. My hair is still red, the soft strands fluttering in the breeze that blows through the open window. Even my missing hand is back, for which I am infinitely grateful.

The feelings of the hair brushing against my cheek, of the water in my mouth slipping down my throat, of the breeze caressing my skin as softly as a mother's touch: I savor them all as a gift.

I have been reborn. I have been given a new chance. Despite that it is a gift that I am unworthy of, I realize that every gift is unworthy of being received. All of them are priceless, and therein is the catch. We have no choice but to receive them, because they are freely offered and we can never truly be worthy of them.

I sigh as the Maia helps me lay back again. It's difficult to stay awake; I feel so tired and weary. He looks at me keenly as I lay there listlessly. My hair is dull, mirroring my feelings.

"Sleep. It will do you good, and you will find yourself sleeping much in the beginning, although it will lessen the more you begin to recover." He said, tucking the blankets around me. I barely hear the last of his words before it all blacks out again and I sink into the welcome oblivion, where the darkness doesn't question but instead merely hugs me.

The next few days were all the same. Every time I woke up, I drank and occasionally ate, then fell asleep again, although each time I stayed awake longer than the last.

But now, I can stay awake for a whole day, and I can even stand up and take a few steps. I don't complain at the slow progress, though; I have no reason to want to, as I might have a long time ago.

Each new achievement is a new step towards being able to resume my old life. I do not attempt to worry about my life after I took the oath. It is difficult to think of, and I gladly shun the thoughts.

I sit by the window in my hut in Lòrien, watching the Maiar who tend to the plants in the gardens. But my mind is far away, back in time before everything went wrong. I am back at home with mother and father, and all of my brothers, when the Ambarussa were but elflings of twenty.

The cottage we used to live in was small but cozy. Tyelko always kept Huan in the backyard of the small house. It was a small place father had built for us to go to for a vacation away from the politics of Tirion. I shared a room with Màkalaurë, since there was not enough space for us to have separate rooms. But I did not mind.

 _I sit on the large, stuffed chair in the main room, listening to the fire crackling merrily in its confines. It sounds like it is cackling gleefully over something, I think to myself. I pick up a piece of paper Mákalaurë has shoved aside to dispose of and toss it, watching as it flutters into the grate. The fire snatches up my offering, stuffing it into its mouth and devouring it greedily. A strange way of hoarding treasure._

 _Something soft and warm landing on my lap makes me start and look down to see that the Ambarussa have climbed into my lap, looking up at me with identical, pleading faces. I smile down at them, wrapping my arms around their small forms._

 _They are so small and soft, molding into my arms like lumps of clay. I kiss their tousled red hair, and they smile up at me in reply, both reaching up to press their peach lips against my cheeks. Their arms wrap around me as their pale pink cheeks dimple with happiness._

 _Moryo suddenly walks by and drops a plate on my lap with careless grace, sitting at my feet. On the plate are honey cookies, and the Ambarussa both squeal, reaching for the treats, causing difficulty for me as I attempt to balance both them and the plate precariously._

 _Moryo smirks at me slightly, his freckled cheeks scrunching as his green eyes sparkle under his dark eyebrows and wine-colored hair. "Ammë wants you to taste them." He said needlessly, biting into his own cookie._

 _I pick one up, nibbling on it. It is warm and soft, bending under the pressure of my fingers before tearing away reluctantly. The edges of the cookie, as I pull it away, have long, sticky strands hanging from them like the remaining fibers of ripped parchment. The taste of honey and cinnamon melt in my mouth in a burst of sweetness, and I close my eyes for a brief moment._

 _The Ambarussa finish their cookies and drop the plate onto Moryo's lap as he stands and lazily saunters off to the kitchen. Sticky, aromatic lips press against my neck, and I open my eyes to see that the twins have nestled into me, smiling as crumbs litter their laps and smudge their cheeks._

 _I smile, brushing them off and wiping their faces gently with my silk sleeve. They merely grin up at me._

 _"Did you see Tyelko today, Nelyo?" Asks one of them. I am too lazy to figure out which one it is._

 _"He was amazing with his bow!" The other lisps slightly in his sweet voice, the Quenyä rolling off of his lips like water from a waterskin._

 _"Yes, I saw him, Ambarussa. He is very good." I reply, and Mákalaurë suddenly bursts into song as he finishes his composition._

 _The Ambarussa quiet down as we listen to our brother sing. His long, tapered fingers caress the strings of his harp, coaxing forth beautiful notes as patiently and expertly as as mother would coax a child out of hiding. The notes drip to the floor and flow together beneath our feet, mingling pleasantly._

 _His voice is sweet and high, a pleasing softness to it that makes him sound shy and delicate. He was always fragile, my Káno. His skin is like porcelain or alabaster, white and smooth, making one wonder if the light of the Trees could shine right through him if you looked carefully enough._

 _His throat is like the tapering neck of a vase, vibrating as he sings. His face is soft and oval shaped, not sharp and angular like our father's. His metallic blue hair shimmers in the light of Telperion streaming through the window, and long eyelashes sweep against his cheeks, hiding soft silver eyes underneath them._

 _The Ambarussa fall asleep in my lap, and Káno's voice continues to spill into the air, slowly trickling away like wasted wine._

My vision slowly focuses once more as I come back to the present, and I see that the Maia is standing there in the doorway, holding out his hand. I take it without a word, and he leads me away, where I know not. I do not care.

As long as my brothers are not here, I care not what happens to me.

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 _This one shot has a grand 1368 words... It seems so short and yet long at the same time... Meh. As long as it is enjoyable._


	3. Chapter 3

**Challenge - Lifeline**

The Maia led me to where I know not. I do not care. As long as my brothers are not here, I care not what happens to me.

My eyes close as I stumble after him, thinking of my brothers. My delicate Káno. Impetuous Tyelko. Haughty and yet caring Moryo. Spoiled Curvo. And the sweet, innocent Ambarussa: excitable Pityo and shy Telvo.

I wish to see them, but I know better than to ask. They will not be here. None of them will. I shall most likely never see them again; and therein lies my ultimate doom. To not be able to see them- I will die everyday and go on living, dying inside day after day until I am nothing more than a mere husk.

Like an ear of corn, stripped of its leaves and silk. I was the leaves and silk- I took care of my family- sheltered them. I was supposed to protect my brothers. But I failed. And I was ripped away from them.

The Maia has led me to wherever I'm supposed to be. I look up as he stops, feeling myself sag in both grief and exhaustion. And then I stop, not believing my eyes.

"He needs you, Nelyafinwë." The Maia says simply, and then leaves. I gasp, feeling myself fall to the soft grasses that prickle me like needles. The figure I have been staring at turns and sees me. And he, too, stands and stares. I begin look away for guilt, but I never get the chance to.

In a moment, Mákalaurë is in my arms, his head pillowed on my shoulder and clutching my shirt just like he used to when he was an elfling. My own arms come up to grasp him, and I feel wetness seeping into the fabric of my shirt where his head lies on my shoulder.

"Nelyo. Nelyo." Káno cries, clutching me. I blink, my arms instinctively tightening around him as they used to when he would cry before. And the familiar words roll off of my tongue.

"I am here, Káno. Do not cry." I say, but the words sound dull and flat to my own ears. It is like an empty promise, a mere echo in the vast chasm of our oath.

But Káno does not seem to care. His tears begin to stem, and cease to flow so freely, instead merely holding onto me. His grip does not lax, like a sailor who clings to the one piece of wood that is his one chance of being saved.

My vision has blurred, and I can see nothing but colors that swim in front of me in blurred blobs of indiscernible shapes. The weight on my shoulder shifts. There are warm fingers on my cheeks, smudging dampness on them like fresh ink on a piece of white parchment, marring the clean surface.

"Don't cry, Nelyo." Káno's voice whispers softly in my ear. He hesitates, and then speaks in a small voice. "When you cry, you leave me."

The truth in his simple sentence strikes my heart like a dagger. New drops of pain wrung from the depths of my feä splatter onto his slender fingers, as hot as newly-spilt blood. I am surprised that they are not red as well, judging by the pain that wells as they fall.

"I'm sorry, Káno. Valar, I'm so sorry. I didn't know-" but I find that I cannot finish. Káno buries himself into me, as though he believes I can hold off the whole world. I do not deserve such trust. But that is my Káno: always loving and forgiving of everything and everybody but himself.

"It's okay, Nelyo. We always knew father would drag us into something we couldn't get out of one day. And it is behind us, now. Judgement has rendered all null and void." He attempts to comfort me, as though it wasn't he that was being comforted moments ago.

"We can go back to life wiser and more experienced, now." He says, although he sounds doubtful of himself.

I breathe a brittle laugh. It is strange and unnerving. "Yes. But we never learn- we always made the same mistakes, didn't we?" I ask bitterly. He chooses to say nothing, instead pressing his lips forgivingly to my cheek. They are as soft and smooth as I remember them to be - before.

"Look, Nelyo." He says, and I look up, the tears on my cheeks dried into hard crust. "It looks as though lord Manwë and Ulmo will send rain today." He says quietly, pointing.

I draw him into my arms, pinning his arms underneath mine and wrapping my cloak around us both. It is not cold, but I need to feel him. I need to make sure that he is real, and that he is not leaving me. I must make things right. I must take care of my brothers as I should have a long time ago.

Káno does not protest, and the breeze blows his hair into my face as we watch the sun slip into the dark waters of night, drowning in its deep depths.

The Maia is right; he needs me. But he also forgot to mention the other side of it: I need him - all of them; they are my saving line in the uncertain waters of this new life.

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 _892 words._


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